


Intergalactic

by thesewordselope (jadebloods)



Category: Bandom, Gym Class Heroes, The Academy Is...
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, M/M, Public Sex, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 01:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadebloods/pseuds/thesewordselope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd never gotten an erection on stage before. It was a problem he had no idea how to deal with, since it wasn't exactly something they taught you in Rockstar 101.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intergalactic

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the 2006 Warped Tour. Originally posted to the damnyouwentz LJ community on August 22, 2006. For my friends CeeJ and Beckah.

Something semi-solid and tasting of strawberries and vodka squished on his tongue, and he sucked it back and forth through his teeth to liquefy it before swallowing. It burned his tongue a little when it was liquid, but it went down better that way. He licked around the inside of the little plastic cup, getting the little pieces of jell-o that had stuck to the edges, before crumpling it up and throwing it in the direction of the trash can by the stage entrance. He swallowed again, then closed his eyes and listened.

He knew it was cliché, but crowds were like the ocean to him. He got the same kind of feeling when he stood in front of either one of them. If he carried the metaphor further, he could talk about kids jumping in waves, and the rolling sound of their voices and applause. And the obvious crowd surfing link. But no, mostly it was just about how they made him feel, conscious of the fact that he was just an animal. That he'd been nothing but a fish with feet not so long ago in a galactic time frame. The incomprehensible power of the ocean made him feel vulnerable. So did crowds. Or maybe he was just-- 

Yeah. His steps were a lot steadier than he felt. He'd gotten very good at being convincingly sober when he needed to be. 

Normally the crowd was the first thing he noticed upon rounding the corner to the stage. Except. Well, except for the fact that today, the first thing his eyes landed on was the back of Bill's head. Bill's hair was sticking to his neck in sweaty clumps, which should have been more than a little bit gross but was actually a little enticing. He walked forward at what he assumed was a normal pace, but it felt like slow motion. Maybe it was because he was concentrating so hard. Trying to think about anything in this state only slowed him down. 

He let the mic dangle, holding it by the cord looped around one finger. Bill didn't know he was coming, because Travis was way before his cue. He knew he had less than five seconds before the crowd noticed and recognized him, but he wanted to take Bill by surprise. He tried to rush forward and he thought it worked, since now he _felt_ like he was going at a normal pace. 

First point of contact was Travis's hand on Bill's hip. Bill's skin was burning hot from the direct sunlight. They couldn't have picked a more gross or muggy day to do this show, and it was manifesting in the way Bill's skin was slick to the touch. Second point of contact was Travis's other hand on Bill's shoulder, then moving across his chest on the damp curtain of Bill's t-shirt. The volume level spiked as the crowd recognized exactly who was groping William Beckett onstage. 

Bill didn't need to turn around, and he leaned backwards into Travis's body without question, without skipping a beat. Travis could feel the power of Bill's lungs vibrating his torso as Bill continued to sing, pushing his (admittedly very tiny) ass into Travis's crotch. His head was already spinning, and this certainly wasn't helping, so he ducked his face into the back of Bill's neck to anchor himself. Bill's soaked hair stuck to Travis's face, getting Bill's sweat smeared on Travis's cheeks. Travis pressed his face to Bill's skin, knowing that when he pulled away in a few seconds, his lips would taste like seawater. 

Wiggling against Travis for emphasis, Bill played it up to the crowd. Travis was already a little drunk, already a little horny (Bacardi just _did_ that to him), and apparently his hips didn't feel like gender-discriminating today. He'd never gotten an erection on stage before. It was a problem he had no idea how to deal with, since it wasn't exactly something they taught you in Rockstar 101. He pulled away and whispered, "'ve got a problem, B," low enough that the mic wouldn't pick it up during a pause in Bill's singing. 

Bill turned just enough to smile at Travis from the corner of one eye, then resumed his performance. He didn't stop moving, sliding his back up and down Travis's torso, the curve of his ass grinding into Travis's obviously quite hard dick. Travis licked his lips, tasting the salt of Bill's sweat and something else, something like pennies that had to be his own adrenaline. He couldn't hear his own heart beating, but he could feel it in his chest. He returned to Bill's neck, nosing through the bush of hair until his lips came in contact with skin again. 

Travis felt Bill's fingers slide through his knuckles and then clasp the hand on his right hip. Bill slipped the cord of Travis's microphone loose from his fingers, then took it out of Travis's hand. He brought it to his lips and sang into both of their mics for the big finish of the song. When it was over, he pulled away from Travis for the first time, approaching the edge of the stage. 

"Are we still taking care of each other?" He asked, and the crowd roared in response. "That's good, that's good to hear. Now we've got a little something special in store for you all right now. As you might know, it is Mike's birthday tomorrow, so we're going to let him do a little solo number right now for you kids." Bill started clapping and the audience followed suit. Travis glanced over and noticed Mike giving Bill the biggest, most obvious _what the fuck?!_ look he'd ever seen in his life. Bill just rolled his hand; _keep the show going, I'll be right back._

(The third point of contact was) Bill's hand, square in the middle of Travis's chest, pushing him behind the speaker stack as Mike started playing the first few tentative riffs. There was a fence on the left side of the stage, and they were at just the right angle that nobody in the crowd could see them, although all of Bill's band mates (not to mention the tech crew) could. Bill flipped the switch on both of their microphones, turning them off. "Is it--" 

"No," Bill said, before Travis could even finish the question. He pushed Travis against the speakers, and Travis boggled at how much force Bill was able to muster, considering Travis was at _least_ twice his size. Travis felt the powerful vibrations of the speakers buzzing through his head, which just added to the surrealism. Who needed alcohol when you've got what amounts to a jackhammer to the back of the head and Bill's hand on your sternum? 

His body felt way too heavy, like his skin and all of his organs had doubled in thickness, and who knows, maybe they had. Wasn't that-- he almost remembered something from high school physics about movement doing something to mass, but even if he did remember it, he'd probably remember it wrong. He got a C in senior physics. Why was he thinking about this right now, anyway? 

Bill leaned in, as though he was whispering instead of almost yelling to be heard over the speaker under Travis's back. "You better make this worth it for me. I'm going to get shit on for this." Travis opened his mouth to say something-- he didn't know what he was going to say, but some kind of response seemed appropriate-- but Bill was already there with a hand on the back of Travis's neck, fingers curling around the tendrils of 'fro at the base. His face was close. Very, very-- 

Their lips touched, and Travis had no choice but to follow along, grabbing at Bill's neck since he needed to do _something_ with his hands while Bill kissed him, because that was definitely what he was doing. It'd be easy to forget how strange this was-- what with the long hair he had fisted between his fingers-- if not for the fact that Bill's body was all hard angles. Travis was a little glad that people didn't carry their eyeballs around on, oh, their stomachs, because Bill's hip bones would have poked them out already. At this rate he'd be counting himself lucky if he didn't wake up with bruises. 

Not that he _cared_. Those were just the sort of things his internal monologue liked to say, with just the right touch of the bizarre to keep him distant from, well, everything. So he didn't have to think about the fact that he was kissing William Beckett behind the speaker stack at Warped Tour, with a huge crowd on the other side and Bill's band mates glancing over every few seconds, as though they didn't really want to see what was happening but were too morbidly curious to stop. 

Bill's upper lip was just as sweaty as the rest of him, and Travis could taste the salt in the edges of his lips. His tongue, however, was cold and refreshing, as Bill kept chugging water throughout the show to stay hydrated. Travis tried to hold on to it with his teeth, but it slipped through when Bill pulled away momentarily. He still had the microphones in his hand. He hung his around his shoulders, and looped the other around Travis's neck, tugging a little too hard and causing Travis's breath to catch as the cord pressed into his trachea. 

Travis opened his mouth halfway, rising up a little on the balls of his feet, and Bill loosened his hold. A sharp inhale sent too much oxygen to his brain, and if he wasn't feeling lightheaded before, he definitely was now. He swayed on his feet, grabbing Bill's hips for support as his surroundings began to blur and then darken. He thought for a moment that he might faint, just fucking fall down, and wouldn't that be awesome? But he didn't, and he came around just in time to notice that Bill had unzipped his pants and pulled them down to his knees for him. 

He gave the microphone another playful tug-- not enough to cut off Travis's air again, but just enough to remind him that it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. _Quit fucking around,_ that gesture said, _or the big guy gets it._ Travis wanted to wonder how much time had elapsed-- surely it'd been like ten minutes, and wouldn't the crowd be wondering where they went?-- but he recognized the song Mike was playing, and it couldn't have been more than 60 seconds in actual time. 

Bill lifted Travis's polo, exposing the soft skin of his stomach, and he traced Travis's happy trail from his belly button to the top of his boxers, which were still on. Travis chewed on his bottom lip as Bill leaned forward and sucked on the outside edge of his belly button, sending electric sparks to his groin. His erection had to be poking Bill in the chin right now. It had to be. Bill pulled his boxers down just enough to free Travis's dick, and he didn't even waste any time on pretenses. They only had four minutes, tops, until Mike was done playing. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the base of Travis's shaft, sucking on the head and massaging the vein on the underside of his dick with his tongue. 

Travis bit down harder on his lower lip. He spread his legs apart, mostly to steady himself (because, hello, still very drunk and more than a little dizzy from not being able to breathe) but also to allow Bill to move in closer. From this angle, Travis couldn't see Bill's sharp corners; all he could see was long hair and a pale, flushed face, pink lips sliding in contrast over the dark skin of his dick. It looked and felt like getting head from a girl-- only much, much better. Bill couldn't get his mouth all the way down, but he used his hand on the bottom in tandem with his mouth at the top, using his other hand to dig his nails into Travis's thigh. Travis grabbed a fistful of Bill's hair, trying not to push but finding it very, very hard. 

His whole body was buzzing and shaking and generally being very weird and very sensitive to the touch. He sorta felt like he was going to go flying out of his own skin, but he usually didn't have that feeling unless he was high, and today was one of the days where he actually _wasn't_. His knees shook and-- ohgod-- was Bill humming? If Travis wasn't mistaken, he was humming along to the song, and all he really needed right now was one more source of vibration, seriously. He was heady, and starting to feel more than a little rushed. What if it wasn't enough time? What if the song ended and they had to go back out on stage before Travis could get off? And somehow, the thought of being deprived of this release actually triggered Travis's orgasm, and he rose up on the balls of his feet one more time as he came in Bill's mouth. Bill stayed down there, swallowing it, taking it, until Travis settled back down. 

When it was over, Bill stood back up, glancing over at his horrified band mates and gave them a little wave. _Yep, I'll be there in just a sec._ He grabbed the loop of microphone cord and pulled Travis closer, kissing him again. This time Travis could taste himself on Bill's tongue, and it was ever-so-slightly bitter, like seaweed. Travis squeezed Bill's hips, not thinking about the implications that this might have on their friendship. Not thinking about the fact that he was, technically, pretty heterosexual. His ears were ringing and his dick felt like it would never stop twitching, but he knew it would all be over in a moment. He'd have to pull his pants up and go out on that stage like nothing had just happened. He had to be able to focus, which may or may not be impossible, but if he was going to try, he had to get this out of his system _right now_ , and the only way to do that was kiss Bill back as aggressively as he possibly could. 

Their teeth clicked together, and Travis felt it in his skull. He dug his hands in, and Bill pulled on the short hairs at the bottom of his 'fro. They continued in this fashion for about half a minute, when Travis noted that the song was ending. It was time to go back out there. 

"Feel better?" Bill mumbled against Travis's lips. 

"I feel intergalactic," he said, and it didn't make very much sense, except that somehow it did. Bill pulled up his pants for him, and Travis zipped his zipper, straightened his shirt, and followed Bill around the corner, letting the noise of the crowd wash over him.


End file.
